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His eyes meet yours, and you stop breathing.
You stumble backwards, tripping over tree roots and scraping your palms against unforgiving wilderness. The recognition in his eyes is a death sentence, an ode to be sung in helpless screaming, and you want no part of it- not after surviving so long this time. You’d almost gotten used to the feeling of your stomach being whole again, your throat unslit, bones unblemished.
Darting, twisting, scrambling without grace, your movements are weak from malnourishment, but reckless in desperation. Anything to escape- nothing self-inflicted will be as painful as his hydro daggers in your lungs-
A heavy weight bowls you over, an aborted cry punched from your throat, and you wonder, as you’re knocked flying across the space, whether you’ll live before you hit the ground, or if the violet electricity will fry your nervous system first. A deafening crack echoes through the clearing, and you wonder if it passed through in such record time that the death was painless.
…your ribs begin to ache, but dully, and something foreign presses into your side. ‘ Something new? I don’t remember anything like this… ’ you wonder dazedly. It doesn’t squeeze you any further, and you feel steadily less like a grape in a nutcracker- prone to burst- and more…limp.
A terrifyingly familiar voice, distorted and otherworldly rasps “your grace…”
The vibrations of the inflection cause a rumbling sensation, your body beginning to register its wholeness as the plated armor against it runs cold. You quiver in the strong hold of the being surrounding you, reliving memories of being skewered for less than looking at him. A tiny whimper escapes you, some part of you recognizing the words but refusing to believe them.
“W-wh…”
Your shoulders jump weakly when something cool, smooth like glass, buries into the crook of your neck with a gentleness inconsistent with your memories. The world turns upright- strong, metallic arms gripping you and releasing, guiding your limp, frozen form- and you shiver, unconsciously hanging on for dear life, when they clasp oh-so-carefully around the front of your stomach, around the front of your chest.
“You’re alive…” the voice rumbles breathlessly into your ear, startling you terribly at the closeness. You jolt reflexively in the Foul Legacy’s arms, a heightening sense of fear seeping back into your bones.
“No, no, nono no no no no, please-“
The pleads fall from your lips with reverence, you’re twisting weakly in his hold, begging for mercy.
“What-what’s wrong, your grace…?”
The claws of armor dig into you slightly to prevent your squirming, the concern in his tone blotted out by the hiss of the final syllable.
Your wiggling slows under his grip, but the trembling remains, shivers running up and down your frame as your breaths fill out the spaces of phantom wounds, visceral in a way that you cannot ignore. In particular, the blazing pain of electro, cooking the rawness of your abdomen with its sizzling hunger, is a feeling that refuses to dissolve with your resurrection.
“Please, please pleaseplease I don’twanna die…”
The grip becomes tighter, strange shapes digging into the junction of your neck with the crystal orb already pressed there. Long, fluffy silk threads brush across your skin, and the ground drops a little further away. The world tilts one way- and you expect the end- and then the other, and back again, and forth. You rock together, and you could almost mistake the motions to be… soothing…
“Oh starlight…”
You quake when he speaks again,
“I won’t let anyone touch you…”
You whimper again, softly, preparing yourself.
“At least make it quick…” you whisper, quiet as death.
The hold around you loosens, and you shut your eyes tight.
“What… do you mean…?”
You don’t answer, silent tears squeezing from beneath your lashes and trailing warmth gently down your cheeks.
“S-starlight…?”
“N-no electro this time, p l e a s e. . .”
“Your grace, what are you t a l k i n g about…?”
A tiny sob wracks your body, unbidden, and you turn your head further away, refusing to give him the satisfaction. You arms strain against his, hoping to cover the sound and hide it away for even a shred of decency before you go.
“L-let go… or kill me already. Don’t… don’t… drag this out anymore…!”
“WHAT?!”
You flinch, the man’s grip loosening so much that you fall from his arms and crumple to the ground softly, and you stay there, curling up in the sharp grass and dirt and shivering.
“Shit, starlight, your grace- your grace I didn’t mean to- are you alright?!”
His hands are all over you again, frantic and gentle and it’s so wrong, why hasn’t he killed you yet…
You whine as metal claws give way for soft, gloved fingers, stroking lightly- so lightly- over the marks of salt and sorrow, and you’re too tired to fight back.
“I could never- I would never-!”
Your eyes peer back up at the Harbinger, a small part of you saddened at his open expression of hurt. You can’t form the words, tongue slack in your jaw, but you barely breathe his name.
“Ch-il..de…”
A briefly euphoric expression softens his worried features, but it doesn’t last. He’s a vision- blue eyes like a summer sea affixed to your every movement, his hair tousled as always, prettier than you could’ve dreamed- you always did get reminded, when you used to visit him in the teapot, how beautiful he was. Pale, bared forearms with deft, gloved hands to match, and his slender frame wrapped in harmonies of reds, gold and gray…
The tears well up again, knowing this man that you’d loved so much in your bleak little world…
… hated you in his own.
“D-don’t…” you choke out with a stutter as he reaches for the fresh tears.
“Don’t be…so cruel…”
He looks so confused, so kind, where is all that disdain from before…?
“Acting like.. you care…”
His eyes widen in disbelief, both hands reaching to cup your cheeks, tilting your head to face him as you flinch.
“Of course I care!! Your grace, please-“ he stiffens suddenly, and the position you’re in suddenly seems to click.
—————————
Both hands reaching to cup your cheeks, tilting your head to face him.
The violet glow of electro sizzles your flesh- weeping crimson and abyssal stars, drowned by the light of electricity- crisp and dry, your body contorting in agony against your will around the halberd between your ribs.
“I’m sure even someone like you knows that there’s a special place in Celestia for you, ‘your grace.” He mocks coldly, digging bloodied gloves into your hair.
“Too bad I won’t let you see it just yet. You haven’t suffered nearly enough.”
Distantly, as he slashed at your body with hydro blades that conducted the electricity, pinned your arms with arrows from the bow y o u gave him… you wondered when your suffering would be ever be sufficient for the cycle to end.
—————————
A soft, sharp gasp rattles his form atop you. His hands are shaking as he draws them away from your face, the expression he reads upon it hauntingly familiar .
“N-n o.. .”
There it is, you think. He’s… regretting touching someone so filthy.
It’s not a foreign concept, after all. Some of the others disposed of their gloves in front of you before making the final blow.
“Y-your grace, have.. have I…”
His trembling hands hover momentarily before fearfully alighting over your abdomen- directly where his spear once made its home.
“Have I… done this before…?”
The touch has you gasping reflexively, your entire body curling up slightly around the spot, despite your exhaustion, and you squirm beneath him, writhing to get away. His fingertips pull away, and the look on his face is distraught.
“Your… Your… Eminen..ce…”
He falls back on his heels, drawing back until he disappears from your vision, and all you can see are the sparkling treetops overhead, sunlight peering through the illuminated foliage like daylight stars.
“How..h-how could I have…”
You’re so tired. The burst of adrenaline, both from running and the reflex to protect the wound he hasn’t yet reopened, it’s fading away…
Long fingers slip carefully under your back and the joints of your knees, gentle, but strong. His body radiates a pleasant heat that he pulls you into, gathering your scattered, breaking pieces without uttering another word. The sensation is strange and unfamiliar, and you whine feebly, shutting your eyes against the sight of him, curling into yourself into a fetal position as he lifts you off the ground.
His breath passes over the crown of your head, something soft attaching warmth and sentiment to the surface of your brow. Every touch, from the shifting of his hands against your body to the light, gentle kiss pressed into your skin, is too much to think about, and too good to believe. Your eyes stay closed as you wait for the other shoe to drop.
He only carries you, carefully, through the forests and into the fields. When the golden sunlight bathes your skin in warmth, he begins to rock you- gently, like a babe- into a fitful slumber. You’re afraid to give in to the sensations- they would be foreign to you even if you hadn’t been met with this world’s hostility- and yet, they’re so… mindful … and you, you’re exhausted …
Another strange, lovely touch of his lips lingers over your forehead, and you suppose- your vision of his soft, handsome features beginning to simmer with the dark of unconscious- that this wouldn’t be a bad way to die, if he finally comes to his senses after you’re out like a light.
A soft murmur is exhaled across your skin- one that you vaguely feel escaping the plane of his chest as it deflates against you. You’ve slipped into oblivion before you can process it.
“I’m sorry…”